


when we have a drink or three.

by LLReid



Category: Bloodbound (Visual Novels)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Canon LGBTQ Character, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/F, Family Fluff, Female Friendship, Kamilah is the mom of the group, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, Lily Spencer is the star of this fic, Partying, Same-Sex Marriage, Vampires, requests!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLReid/pseuds/LLReid
Summary: Inspired by; Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby by Cigarettes After Sex.~~~~~Kamilah gave her light tug and pushed her back into the recovery position, having already vomited three times since she’d found her the last thing she needed was her choking on it. “You foolish girl. You foolish, foolish girl,” she sighed, stroking her hair. “You are five foot one and a stiff breeze could blow you over, when will you realise that you cannot drink like someone who is three times your size? I don’t know how many times I will have to tell you that having British, Russian, and Kazakhstani ancestry does not make you immune to the effects of alcohol!”“She’s five one and three quarters,” slurred Lily. “Don’t do my girl dirty like that, goddammit. Five one and three quarters! That three quarter inch is fucking important, it makes her almost five two!”“I have known you for years and have somehow never been this close to stabbing you in the eyes. Annie is too occupied to be my conscience at the moment, so I suggest you calm the fuck down.” Kamilah growled and cast an exhausted glare towards Lily. “And where the hell are her shoes, might I ask? She was wearing boots when she left the house.”
Relationships: Kamilah Sayeed/Anastasia Sayeed, Kamilah Sayeed/Main Character (Bloodbound)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 51





	1. nothings gonna take you from my side.

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT 1: Can you pls do a fic where mc is drunk this time and kamilah has to take care of her 
> 
> PROMPT 2: could maybe write something where kamilah x mc find out that Lily’s secretly been writing fanfics about them

“What the hell did you do!?,” Kamilah yelled at Lily as she stared at her highly intoxicated wife, who was sprawled out practically unconscious on the grass in the middle of Central Park with no shoes on. She was bent over Anastasia on all fours, trying to bring her back to the land of the living. She’d received a terrifying ‘Kamilah I’m Scared’ phone call from her protégé claiming that her wife had drank so much she died whilst she was tasting wine on The Upper East Side with Serafine, whilst Anastasia and Lily were supposedly clubbing somewhere in Brooklyn... and now here she was. In Central Park at four in the morning.

“Why is it when something drunk or stupid happens, it is always you two?!,” Serafine added. “What the hell were you drinking?!”

Lily slumped against Serafine. “What weren’t we drinking?”

“We have spent the last two hours worried that you two were bleeding to death in a ditch because you evidently couldn’t give us your exact location when you called,” Kamilah continued as the night's chilly breath tickled up her neck and found her ear, whispering secrets only the wind knew. “Now that we know you’re okay, I just want you to be bleeding to death in a ditch.”

“Aww, you missed us,” slurred Lily.

“Lily Spencer,” she growled, turning her head to look at the imbecile, “I will kill you with my bare hands if you do not start behaving yourself immediately.”

“Kamilah! No!,” yelped Lily, burying her face into Serafine’s shoulder. 

“There, there,” Serafine sighed, patting her back. “She won’t touch you, ma beauté.”

“Like hell I won’t,” she hissed, looking back down at a drowsy Anastasia. “They haven’t gotten themselves this drunk in years!”

“Holy shit,” Lily breathed, looking up at her. “This is just like my fanfic.”

“Your what?,” she sighed.

Lily just started laughing again. “I’m a hit on AO3 for a reason, you dumbass.”

“If I were you I would not be calling the person who came to rescue me a dumbass if I wished to see the dawn,” she snapped.

“Oh shit, you said that in my fic as well.” Lily’s jaw dropped, “I think I might be developing psychic abilities, fam. This is not a drill— you’re thinking about how much you wanna stab me right now, aren’t you?”

“Obviously.”

Lily smacked herself on the forehead and let out a loud whooping sound that likely broke the sound barrier. “I’m psychic now, y’all!”

“Is now an appropriate time to sedate her or not?,” she muttered.

“I think she’s just admitted to being the one writing those stories about the two of you,” Serafine laughed. “I suppose we should’ve known. I understand her movies brought a certain amount of attention to the family but who else could possibly have known about the time you and Anastasia started playing with knives in the back of Adrian’s jet?”

“God, she really must be out of it if she’s actually admitting that to my face,” she sighed. “I’m certain Annie will already know.”

“You don’t think they’ve taken anything, do you?,” Serafine asked her. “The parties in Brooklyn are wild, mon amie. It would not be an uncommon thing to have indulged in a line or two of something in the bathrooms.”

“Annie hasn’t done that since her freshman year of college.”

“You don’t know that she didn’t do it tonight, though.” Serafine spoke cautiously, knowing that Kamilah would not take kindly to any accusations against her wife. “She is paralytic... more so than I’ve ever seen her. You’d best check.”

Kamilah used her already-elongated fangs to nick one of her wife’s fingers. She’d be able to taste it in her blood if she’d either indulged in any party drugs or had been slipped something without realising it. 

The moment Anastasia’s blood touched her tongue she actually cringed. “No drugs but her blood alcohol level would have killed her by now if she were mortal.”

“Nooo,” Anastasia groaned, rolling in the grass. “Penguins...”

“Penguins?,” Serafine echoed.

Kamilah gave her light tug and pushed her back into the recovery position, having already vomited three times since she’d found her the last thing she needed was her choking on it. “You foolish girl. You foolish, foolish girl,” she sighed, stroking her hair. “You are five foot one and a stiff breeze could blow you over, when will you realise that you cannot drink like someone who is three times your size? I don’t know how many times I will have to tell you that having British, Russian, and Kazakhstani ancestry does not make you immune to the effects of alcohol!”

“She’s five one and three quarters,” slurred Lily. “Don’t do my girl dirty like that, goddammit. Five one and three quarters! That three quarter inch is fucking important, it makes her almost five two!”

“I have known you for years and have somehow never been this close to stabbing you in the eyes. Annie is too occupied to be my conscience at the moment, so I suggest you calm the fuck down.” Kamilah growled and cast an exhausted glare towards Lily. “And where the hell are her shoes, might I ask? She was wearing boots when she left the house.”

Lily snorted and started laughing hysterically, falling flat onto her back on the dewy grass. “We wanted to see if they could float!”

She sighed. “And did they, pray tell?”

“They swam away,” Lily sighed.

“You did not throw a pair of Jimmy Choo’s into the river,” murmured Serafine. “Why would you do that?”

“Cause Anastasia said they were floaty and I was like, hell nah. Then she was like, hell yeah. And I was like, nah. And she was like, yeah. And I was like, nah. And she was like, yeah. And I was like, nah. Then the dumb bitch took them off and yeeted them into the water.” Lily sighed happily. “Best night of my fucking life. You married a legend, Kamilah.”

“They are a danger to society,” Kamilah concluded as she removed her blazer and went about wrapping Anastasia up in it. There was little she could do but take her home, clean her up, and rehydrate her whilst her body metabolised the alcohol in her system. “This is the last time they go clubbing without a responsible companion. I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?,” Serafine huffed. “They’re grown women, Kamilah. You cannot forbid them from their heart’s desires... no matter how idiotic it may be.”

“Them being idiots whilst left to their own devices is the least of my concerns. They’re still young enough that they don’t stop to think about how dangerous it is for a woman to get this drunk. They don’t think that they’ll be the one that something happens to.” She sighed as Anastasia started retching again and quickly scooped her hair away from her face. “The last thing I wish is for them to become jaded or miss out on their youth whilst nightclubs still appeal to them,” she continued whilst rubbing her wife’s back. “But they must be sensible about it.” 

The shame she felt was a distinct feeling, she hadn’t wanted to go clubbing with Lily and Anastasia, and that hadn’t been an issue. She and Anastasia spent as many Friday or Saturday nights unwinding in different ways as they spent together... but she couldn’t help but feel like this was all her fault. If she’d been there to prevent this— despite all her gifts and the burdens they brought, Anastasia was still naive enough that she didn’t think about these things happening to her... and on a good day Lily was about as responsible as a drunk ten year old with ADHD who’d eaten too much sugar.

Nothing in this world could panic her like the thought of any harm coming to Anastasia, and in that panic she could quite easily become the version of herself that she’d once been under Gaius’ thumb. She would, after all, burn the entire world down if it meant keeping her safe and well.

“Stop it,” Serafine warned her as they each picked up the drunk under their care. “Stop it at once.”

“Stop what?,” she growled.

“Blaming yourself. Planning exactly how you’re going to torture the person who made their drinks until they beg you for death. Everything that is going on in your mind right now, stop it. Those are Gaius’ words that you are saying to yourself, not your own.” Serafine glared at her. “And, no, I didn’t have to peer into your mind to know exactly what you’re thinking. You are not going to throw away everything you’ve worked for by torturing anyone to death.”

“Whichever mortal was serving the drinks should’ve stopped long before it got to this point. What sort of person serves someone this intoxicated? And I— I should’ve been with her,” she said weakly, looking between Anastasia and Lily. “I should’ve been with them both. If something had happened— well, any harm coming to either of them would be inconceivable... and heads would roll.”

“You can’t control them all the time, mon amie, or you start down the very same path Gaius walked with you,” Serafine sighed. “You have to give them their freedom or they will start to resent you. You simply cannot protect them from everything.”

She sighed and stroked her wife’s hair. Anastasia felt everything too deeply and wanted too much, as young people often did... and being as well known as she was, having suffered as much as she had, it was really no surprise she jumped at the chance to be normal. As cages went, hers was a gilded one, but she should not live well in it or any cage, for that matter.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Anastasia had fallen asleep the moment they left the park and went their separate ways, with Serafine delivering Lily to The Shadow Den in one piece and Kamilah taking her wife home. She held her tightly to her chest, the very same way she’d carried her dead body after Gaius murdered her. She couldn’t look at her or hear her own laments without feeling appalled, wanting desperately to fall silent, grow smaller. More than that, she was uncomfortably conscious of her whole body, even the awkward way that the locks of her hair were blowing in the wind bothered her. Everywhere, she seemed to feel her skin from the inside, as if it now stood away from her flesh, separated by a millimeter of horrified space.

Every city in the world was a ghost... especially at this late hour.

Kamilah weaved through the new buildings that had risen upon the bones of the old, remembering what had once stood in its place. Each shiny steel skyscraper, each tower of glass carried within it the memories of what had gone before, an architectural haunting. Eerie in this light. Sometimes she could catch a glimpse of these former incarnations in the awkward angle of a street or iron gate, an old oak door peeking out from an alleyway between new facades, the plaque commemorating the spot that was once a battleground, which became a bar and was now a park.

It was hard not to remember everything when the city was the quiet. When the only sounds was her and her wife’s hearts beating in perfect sync.

She was unaccustomed to this level of anxiety for someone else’s wellbeing, still. She’d lived for so long without caring about anything or anyone that caring for someone enough to lay down her own life was still a shock to the system. The alcohol might not have been able to kill Anastasia but even the idea of her experiencing the agony of a hangover made her feel nauseous. She’d suffered more than enough... but some fates were guaranteed, no matter who tried to intervene.

It was at times like this Kamilah realised she knew so well the pain and protectiveness Lysimachus had clutched to his chest when they were children fighting over the little wooden horse, how it lasted a whole lifetime, with longings so large you couldn’t even weep for them in the most helpless of situations. She held it tight, and she did so against any ounce of logic she had in her, with each seizure of the beating heart: mine, mine, mine, her mind screamed. Anastasia was hers and all she wanted was to see her well.

“What—,” Anastasia slurred drowsily as she was laid on their bed. Her eyes were closed and she weakly tried to kick her away as she felt her hands tugging at her clothes. “No— I—“ She whined and tried once again to push her away. “I don’t—“ She whimpered, now looking frantically around the dim bedroom. “Kami— Where’s my Kami—“

“Shhh. I’m right here. It’s me.” She stopped immediately and bent down to kiss her forehead the moment it hit her that she was really drunk enough to not realise what was happening. “It’s me, baby, and you’re covered in vomit. I have to get you out of these clothes,” she explained. “You’re safe, alright? But I have to get you out of these clothes.”

Anastasia nodded and whimpered in a way that made it clear that she still wasn’t quite grasping what was happening. She wasn’t even sure she realised where she was or who she was with.

“Annie, look at me, baby,” she said softly, drawing her attention to her face. “It’s me. We’re at home.”

“Kami...” 

“Everything’s fine,” she soothed as she quickly tugged off her black Gucci tights, her heart breaking at the fact she was still very anxious... alcohol always made her anxious. It wasn’t that she was anxious about her or didn’t trust her, she did, but the alcohol seemed to exacerbate the condition that she’d been formally diagnosed with in her mortal life. The slightest thing could make her panicky when she was like this. “You’re fine. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Anastasia nodded and mumbled something that sounded like an odd mixture of the English ‘thanks’ and the Russian ‘spasiba’, which came out like ‘thasiba’. She wasn’t quite sure which language she was trying to speak in, or if she’d merely drank enough to acquire a lisp.

“What did you drink?,” she sighed, pulling her into a sitting position to reach the zipper on the back of her dress. She was so intoxicated that she sort of just flopped against her, hardly even able to hold herself upright at all. “Mm? Do you remember what you drank?”

Anastasia whined and shook her head.

She sighed and grabbed the white hydroflask on her nightstand. “Take a drink of water for me.”

“Nooo,” whined Anastasia. “No water.”

“Annie.” She peppered a few kisses around her face. “You have to drink water, my love.”

“Nyet,” she slurred in Russian. “Tired. Very tired.”

“I’m well aware that you’re tired.” She gently coaxed her mouth open and poured some of the cool water inside. “But you’re also very drunk. You have to drink for me, okay?”

Anastasia swallowed the water in her mouth and Kamilah gave her another, but that was as much as she was willing to drink... and she couldn’t exactly hold her down and waterboard her. She was as difficult a drunk as she was easygoing whilst sober — stubborn to the point her heart likely argued with her head every time it had to beat.

“Kami,” Anastasia mumbled as she flopped face first onto her pillow.

She gave her a light shove into the recovery position and sat beside her on the bed. She’d never usually go through her phone but since she hadn’t the slightest clue what had happened that evening, she resigned herself to face any irritation Anastasia might have with her when she told her the next day. Perhaps there would be photos or videos, or receipts of some sort to show how she and Lily had made it to Central Park all the way from Brooklyn in the state they were in. Perhaps she’d be able to figure out exactly what had gotten her this drunk.

“You two did not hire a limousine,” she sighed as she studied the last few pictures on Anastasia’s camera roll that seemed to explain the confirmation texts from a hire company based in Queens. Her and Lily drinking bottles of champagne through twirly straws in the back of a bright pink limousine... and the shoes were already nowhere to be seen by the time the pictures had been taken. “Annie...”

“Penguins needed us,” Anastasia giggled as she tried and failed to sit up.

“Please tell me you were not intending to break into the Central Park Zoo to see the penguins again,” she half-laughed. Her wife’s love of the animal was just another thing about her that she found adorable, but whoever she had a certain amount of drinks in her that love became the motive for what her drunken mind deemed the perfect crime. “Baby....”

“Rescue... them.” The Bloodkeeper tried and failed once again to sit up, but Kamilah steadied her with a hand on her hip. Anastasia started giggling. “Like Mr. Popper’s Penguins.”

“I take it that is a movie I have yet to be forced to watch with you?”

Anastasia nodded.

She sat the phone aside and heaved a tired sigh. “I want to be angry at you, you know... you really have no business being this adorable when I’m trying to be irritated with you.”

She smiled at her. “Will you steal penguins with me?”

“My darling, you know I cannot deny you anything but building an enclosure for penguins in our home is where I draw the line.”

“Please?” Anastasia batted her unfocused eyes. “I could erase memories so no one would know and they’d think they’d escaped like they did in Madagascar.”

She huffed in amusement. “I’ll watch the movie with you but that is as far as I’m willing to go.”

Eventually Kamilah bundled her up in the duvet and resigned herself to letting her sleep it off. She’d often be awake as the night drew to a close and at times there was a curious peacefulness to this, the darkness warm as though the deep midnight blue duvet held its colour unseen, wrapping around her like some soothing aspect of her youth, as her mind wandered over a life that felt puzzingly long; she experienced a quiet surprise that so many lifetimes could be fit into one. 

As Anastasia slept she held her close and monitored her every breath and heart beat like her own life depended on it. She’d lived long enough to have seen more than one drunken vampire vomit in their sleep and wind up suffocating to the point that it actually did kill them — it was a rare phenomenon but had certainly happened after a wild party — so she wasn’t sleeping. Even just the risk that she could wake up to a pile of ash where her wife should be was too much for her to bear... so she stayed awake through the night. She watched her and she held her tightly from behind, keeping her safely in the recovery position, vowing to herself to never let any harm come to her.


	2. you’ll be just fine.

“Come on, look alive,” Kamilah snorted as she and Anastasia climbed out of the back of their Rolls Royce. “I did warn you and Lily before you left last night that we had Adrian’s luncheon to attend today—“

“Babe, now is not the time to say I told you so,” Anastasia groaned, adjusting her Versace sunglasses. To say that she was hungover would’ve been vastly understating how fragile she both looked and felt, and Kamilah had spent the majority of her morning doing whatever she could to help her through it... but there was only so much anyone could do to help after consuming so much alcohol. Time and water were really the best medicine.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to her wife’s aching head as photographers at the doors of Adrian’s event took their photo. They were a well known power couple, rich in money and time and expensive glasses of wine, so it was understandable that their photo would be taken. However, that did not make it a pleasant experience.

Mortals, she thought. Bloody mortals and their obsession with freezing in time that which was inherently transient.

“God, those flashes were ridiculous,” Anastasia cringed as they shuffled through the doors of The Lotte Palace hotel. “Whoever decided they were a necessary addition to cameras needs to be stabbed.”

Kamilah hummed in agreement... but that was what love was, though, wasn't it? Holding each other's misery as close as your own? She often found that life had ill-prepared her for finding any enjoyment in a press of mortal merrymakers, anyway... so it wasn’t even difficult for her to sympathise with her wife’s current disdain for the world.

“Would you like me to take you to see the penguins at the zoo once we’re done here, perhaps that would lift your spirits.” She smirked. “I’m sure I could make a large enough donation that you may even be able to hold one, if you’d like...”

The Bloodkeeper huffed. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“I know, baby, I know,” she snorted, giving her hand a tight squeeze. “Now, we merely have to show face at this thing. Perhaps if your hangover got progressively worse and became a psychic sensory overload whilst we’re here we wouldn’t have to socialise with this many strange mortals—“

“Kami,” Anastasia giggled. No one else would dare speak her name as she did, with as much frankness and affection. Exasperated affection at the present moment, but affection all the same. “I could strangle you.”

“You aren’t tall enough to strangle me.”

“You’ve sunk low enough for me to reach.” The Bloodkeeper smirked. “And we both know you’re partial to a bit of choking.”

“I quite despise myself for these desires that run amok, I assure you,” she smirked. “But run amok they do. I daresay for the rest of my life I will dream of being fondled and strangled by you at the most inconvenient of moments.”

Anastasia huffed. “Don’t make me horny when I’m hungover. Red. Red. Red.”

“Anyway, I’m not saying that your hangover will get worse. I’m merely pointing out that if you started to feel sick enough — and me being the brilliant wife that I am — I would have to take you home to care for you. Perhaps in the garden.” She feigned a sigh, respecting the sanctity of their safeword. “Indeed. I think the garden would be the perfect place to recover from a hangover of this magnitude.”

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact you have azaleas to tend to, would it?”

“Not at all, my love,” she smirked, stopping to fix her hair for her. “Not at all.”

“You look like you’re deep in thought... what’s up?,” Anastasia murmured as Kamilah twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

“Nothing,” she breathed. “Just that I have loved you, even when I was no one and nothing to you, when you didn’t know my name and barely knew my face.”

“Kami...”

She gently tipped her head back and placed a soft kiss on her lips. They were at a high profile event and photographers were everywhere so she knew she should not get too carried away, but she cupped her face and kissed her deeply. Because they were long past the point when words were any use. Because after more than two thousand years of living she was once again afraid to die. Because she loved her as much as she loved life itself.

All her emotions were so intense — her anger like daggers, her ancient unhappiness a poisoned well. Even her love had once been nothing more than a series of sharp corners and dark alleys... but now tenderness, that once-so-alien-and-disconcerting of emotions, swelled and billowed in her heart. Some things in life were truly difficult. Finding the source of the Nile, for example. Or exploring the South Pole. But loving someone this much and not making those feelings known whenever the opportunity presented itself... Kamilah was still not quite certain why that should prove an insurmountable challenge.

“I live for you,” she whispered against her lips, “and you alone.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.” She brushed her thumbs over her cheekbones. “I know I joked about leaving early but if you have to, or if you start getting overwhelmed on a psychic level, just let me know. Okay?”

“Okay.”

As they walked into the ballroom they stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Lily standing across the room in dark sunglasses with a crystal wine glass held under the milk chocolate fountain with one hand and another under the white chocolate one, and the fool had a whole bottle of champagne with two different twirly straws sticking out the top held beneath her arm. Everybody else in the room was pretending not to notice what she was doing, Kamilah found that most mortals just accepted the most errant nonsense from a well dressed vampire.

“What the hell is she doing?”

“Hair of the dog, apparently,” Anastasia shrugged. Through the dark lenses of their sunglasses their gazes held, a pair of hungover miscreants recognising each other across a roomful of upstanding people, and they nodded in acknowledgement.

“I meant the chocolate fountains,” she breathed, “she’s drinking the chocolate like it’s wine.”

“Some people smoke crack in alleyways to cure their hangovers. Lily likes her chocolate. On the scale of things, it seems entirely reasonable.” Anastasia studied her for a moment. “She has the right idea, I think. Excuse me—“

“You don’t even like chocolate unless it’s baked into something... and you find the very of idea of melted chocolate nauseating.” She sighed. “This will not end well.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures—“ Anastasia took exactly one step away from her before pausing, her face actually paling at the sight of the melted chocolate. “Never mind. I’m not actually that desperate or that brave... melted chocolate is still an unsafe food.”

She snorted and physically turned her away from it, giving her arm a supportive squeeze. “You may be the only person I know who can get sick from something without actually eating it.”

“ARFID, baby,” Anastasia shrugged, flashing her a peace sign before she took off her sunglasses. She had the wild look of someone who hadn’t slept properly in twenty-four hours, with purplish semicircles underneath both her eyes. Being this hungover was like being made out of rubber and cocaine. 

When the Bloodkeeper revealed her eyes for the first time that morning the ancient vampire felt like something had been returned to her, as though the inestimable losses of her long life had been lifted like a boulder, and beneath she saw — under the attentive gaze of her wife’s glacial blue eyes — all the comforts and sweetness that usually lingered there... despite the fact she looked and felt like she’d been hit by a bus. That gaze was like wine and bread and deep in her stomach.

“You look like you’re dying, ma petite,” Serafine chuckled as she approached on Adrian’s arm. “Beautiful as always, but clearly under the weather.”

“Never go clubbing in Brooklyn, guys,” Anastasia sighed. “It will not end well.”

“It's been my experience, my love, that the past always has a way of returning. Those who don't learn, or can't remember it, are always doomed to repeat it,” she sighed, knowing only too well that in a few weeks time she and Lily would be back at that very same club having the time of their lives — only the next time she would be there to save them from themselves. It just went to show that heroes, at times, had to be fools.

“Well at least she’s doing better than Lily,” Adrian shrugged, gesturing across the room towards Lily. She was now sat on the floor next to the buffet with her headphones on taking alternate sips between her glasses of melted chocolate and her champagne, and to top it all off she’d stolen the entire plate of pink and white marshmallows meant for dipping in the fountains.

“Mood,” Anastasia nodded approvingly as she pulled her phone out and immediately snapped a few pictures of her. That seemed to be about as much as she would do, as so much of being a good friend was knowing when to keep your mouth shut. 

For the most part nobody seemed to be bothering Lily at all, but that was just typical of New Yorkers. Kamilah absolutely adored how much space people gave you here. You could have a sobbing fit on the subway and no one would mess with you. You could vomit in a garbage can on the street corner and no one would mess with you. If you were giving off invisible vibes, people respected that. People thought New Yorkers rude, but really they were just leaving you to deal with your own shit. It was respectful! Desirable, even. In a city with so many people, a true New Yorker would always pretend not to see you when you didn't want to be seen.

“She slept in her bathtub with a bra draped over her eyes last night,” Serafine said. “I was quite confused.”

“Better you than me,” Kamilah snorted.

“You would’ve snapped and stabbed her long before getting her home. She tried to run away from me because she wanted to play hide and seek, I had to incapacitate her with my abilities.”

Kamilah let out a low laugh and gently drew Anastasia into her embrace when she noticed her trembling. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Everything hurts and I’m dying... but other than that I’m perfectly fine.”

“Adrian,” Lily said as she staggered towards them with her refilled glasses of chocolate and her bottle of champagne. “You’re out of marshmallows, bro.”

“You ate them all—“

“Which is why you’re out,” she interjected, stumbling a little into Serafine.

Kamilah sighed but said nothing. Very sarcastically.

“Are you doing alright there?,” Serafine snorted.

“I feel great,” Lily beamed before taking a long sip of white chocolate. “This shit is life changing.”

“You are a danger to society and I can’t figure out how you survived infancy,” Kamilah concluded. Her eccentricity had now flowered into full blown madness.

Lily shrugged and chugged some of the milk chocolate, then turned to Anastasia. “Girl, you gotta try this shit. It works well enough that we could go out again tonight—“

“I’ll pass.” She actually physically cringed at the sight of the chocolate and buried her face in Kamilah’s chest. “I would rather be run over by a subway a hundred times than drink that with you.”

“Don’t torment her with foods she doesn’t like,” Kamilah warned, her eyes flaring crimson for a half second. “She’s very clearly in much too fragile a condition to bear it... and if you make her vomit you will be the one cleaning her up this time.”

“Will you stab me if I don’t stop?,” smirked Lily.

She sighed. Life had its way of beating humbleness into a vampire, she thought, and her karma had come to her with purple hair and a personality that would try the patience of a saint. “Indeed.”

“Damn these psychic fic writing abilities strike again.”

“Psychic what?,” Anastasia asked.

Kamilah snorted. “Lily let slip last night that she is the one who has been posting those eerily accurate stories about us on the internet that she swore blind she knew nothing about. I was certain you knew.”

“Uh, no,” Anastasia giggled, looking up at Lily. “That is some serious Big Brother shit.”

“Orwell would be proud of me,” beamed Lily. “Expect magic in my next one shot, fam. Coming soon to an AO3 account near you.”

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think that Orwell was advising people start spying on their friends when he wrote the novel. I think he was warning us about what could come from that—“

“Walk with me, Adrian,” Lily sighed. “We’re gonna get you some chocolate, we’re gonna light some cuban cigars, and we’re gonna sit down and discuss this like gentlemen.”

“She’s drunk,” Serafine snorted as Lily draped an arm around Adrian’s shoulder and dragged him away. “She’s very, very drunk.”

“You’re baby sitting her,” Kamilah deadpanned. 

“Stake me now.” 

~ fin.


End file.
